Seen My Girl
by UnderstandablyMillie
Summary: During a weekend in London, Mary begins to wonder if she made the right choice. Season 6 compliant.


Mary sat at a table for one, dead center in ballroom of The Velvet Chandelier. It seemed a rather odd detail to notice, but it was like her own little island in a turbulent, ever-changing sea. And that's what it was, in a way. Jazz ebbed and flowed into every corner, and the masses of people around her moved seamlessly in its beat, caring little about who they were dancing with (they probably had no idea), or how late it was. But they were young, and they had a right to have fun before they were tied down. If anything, _Mary_ was the odd one out, the morose woman in silver at a party of gold.

And she knew _why_ she was; she just didn't want to think about it. She came to London, muddled and in need of a break, and yet here she was, alone in a jazz club, still thinking about what she came to escape.

And perhaps it wouldn't have bothered her younger self. She was steely back then- temperamental, childish, perhaps a bit impulsive, even, but still strong enough to ride out the storm- and come out with her dress intact. Wherever _that_ Mary Crawley was, she envied her.

Well, she supposed she wasn't even Mary Crawley anymore. _Now_ , she was Mary Talbot. And Mary Talbot was far more emotionally indecisive and gloomy than Mary Crawley. Even though that was supposed to be Edith's job. _She_ was supposed to be wandering around like a ghost, wallowing in whatever she had gotten herself into, and _Mary_ was supposed to be unafraid to pursue what she wanted, no matter the obstacles.

But now the tables had turned, and while she wouldn't fault Edith for getting what she wanted, it was increasingly difficult for her to do so _now_.

Because now, she was in a situation with no conceivable way out. And one that could have been so easily avoided, had she made even a few decisions differently. But that wasn't the part that was bothering her. She could live with that. She was able to in the past, and now shouldn't be any different.

The problem was, now, she felt guilty no matter _what_ she chose. Because she loved him, she really did.

Just not quite in the same way he loved her.

And while it was perhaps sentimental, and completely silly, she felt that Henry deserved to know the truth, but at the same time, she knew that it was rather late for _that_. They were married, with a child of their own. And she knew that divorce was out of the question. Perhaps someone else could have been able to carry it off, but not her. People would talk, and no matter how strong she was- _or thought she was_ \- she cared.

But even though she knew it was for the best, she still felt like it was unfair. To everyone. To Henry, for depriving him from the truth, to herself, for having to carry the unsheddable burden, and to- well, she mustn't think about _that_. It always muddied the waters further when she did.

"Your champagne, Milady."

Mary reached for the glass without looking, set it down in front of her, and thanked the waiter almost as an afterthought. She'd almost forgotten that she'd _ordered_ champagne.

Sinking back into her pensive solitude, Mary took a small sip of champagne. It tasted fine, but she wasn't really paying attention, so she could've been wrong. She was too busy thinking about the moment she'd let it get too far.

Was it their reconciliation after the crash? Perhaps it was even when she started to get more interested in his racing life?

But either way, at that point, she knew she didn't love him. Or at least she _thought_ so. And any pang of doubt was ultimately magnified by everyone's meddling, insisting that they knew her better than _she_ did, and that she did, indeed, love him. And she was aware that their intentions were well-meaning. She knew that they didn't have any right to act as authorities in her affairs, but she still recognized it was because they didn't want her to be alone.

And they were right, at least in that respect. She was alone, and he was a gentleman, and one who was self-assured, clever, and attractive, at that. And for a minute, after their reconciliation, she was so muddled and confused that she thought she _loved_ him. But as time passed, as their son was born, she began to realize that she had mistaken euphoria for love, and that she had made a terrible mistake.

If she'd broken it off sooner, they could have parted as friends, because she truly wanted to, and she really _did_ care, and he could have found a woman who complimented him well, and who loved him just as much as he loved her. And maybe she could have realized what she wanted before it was too-

"Mary! I must say I never expected to see _you_ here!"

Tony Gillingham and Mabel Lane Fox, now his wife, slid over to her table. Seeing the two of them again instantly reminded her of that night at the theatre, with her, and Tony, and Mabel, and Charles.

"I heard you got married. Congratulations. Though I must say I was surprised when I heard it wasn't Charles."

 _If only it was_ ; she wanted to say. But instead, she said her brief thanks, and congratulated them on their marriage.

"Thanks to you and Charles, of course." Mabel said in an almost joking tone. Mary hadn't expected her to say anything; she rather thought that it was _Tony_ who came to join her, and Mabel had reluctantly accompanied. Of course she didn't kid herself into thinking Mabel wanted to be there, but she was still a bit surprised to see her adding humor to the conversation.

"It was mostly his idea, though. There were times where I had as much idea about what he was doing as _you_ did."

"I can't say I'm surprised." Mabel retorted.

"But either way, it all worked out for everyone, I suppose, and that's that."

"So what brings you to London?" Tony asked.

"Just a few errands. But since I was here anyway, I decided that I would spend a night out. It's been so busy back at Downton, with the estate, and I haven't had time to see London in a while."

"Well, I hope you're not too busy to stop by."

"If we are, then we'll make time."

"I'll never doubt _that_ of course. If Mary wants something to happen, then she'll be willing to move heaven and earth to make it happen."

Mary flinched inwardly at his comment; with their past history, they were already treading a thin line, and his gravitating towards her wasn't making anything better. Even though it was innocent, he seemed a bit oblivious to what his wife might be thinking. And so Mary suggested that the two of them get drinks before coming back, just to diffuse the tension if only for a moment.

But even that still went awry when Tony offered to order by himself, leaving his _current wife and ex-lover_ alone at the table.

"How odd." Mabel stated, not musingly and yet to nobody in particular.

"What is it?" Mary asked, knowing full well that she was taking some sort of bait, but not caring enough to tread around it.

"I'm sitting at a table with my husband's ex-lover, and yet _you're_ the one looking at _me_ as if I had two heads."

"I'll have you know that nothing happened between he and I since then, nor will it, seeing as we're both spoken for."

"That never stopped things before, did it?"

"But we've all grown since then; I'm married, and a wiser woman, and you two are happy, are you not?"

"We're happy enough as it is, but it's still not quite the same as it was before, and it never will be." Mabel let out a bitter laugh. "I _know_ I could leave him, too. And I know I probably should. But I haven't, and I'm not sure why."

"I know you won't believe me, and you've got every right to, but I'm certain that Tony _does_ love you. And no matter what he may have felt for anyone else in the past, it doesn't make that less valid."

"You're certainly the expert in our affairs, aren't you? And while that may be, it won't change any bit of what happened. I'll always be his second choice, and I don't expect _you_ to understand that."

Mary knew it was futile; nothing she said would make a difference, no matter how much she knew it to be the truth. And Tony was already on his way back anyway. So she simply kept quiet.

"And I couldn't help but notice that you never referred to _yourself_ as happy when you mentioned that you were married. So it's rather funny that you bring up love."

Mary was left speechless, for once, when Tony returned with drinks.

* * *

And after sipping champagne in a rather tense and nearly wordless fog, the band started to pick up its tempo, and Tony stood up and asked Mabel to dance, leaving Mary rather alone once again.

With Mabel's comment from earlier still bouncing around her mind, she thought that it would be better for her if she were to call it a night. So after notifying the pair as they foxtrotted back in her direction, she grabbed her jacket and faded off into the streets of London.

Outside, the music was only a faint hum, and yet she could hear its familiar tune as clear as crystal. And as the band started to play another, a nearby whistle added itself to the orchestra, before shifting to song in a smooth baritone.

 _Five foot two, eyes of blue,_

 _But oh, what those five foot could do_

 _Has anybody seen my girl?_

 _Turned up nose, turned down hose,_

 _Never had no other beaux_

 _Has anybody seen my girl?_

The oddest part, however, was that if she squinted, it looked like...

 _...Charles?_

Perhaps it was someone else, or it was all a hallucination spurred on from exhaustion. She would even be reasonably accepting if it turned out that she was in the outer circles of Hell. Just as long as she didn't have to confront this situation head-on.

But arguably, she couldn't hide this from herself forever. She already knew, deep down, that she loved him. And there was no pretending it wasn't true.

Besides, she knew she couldn't just avoid him forever. He was bound to come back from Poland at _some_ time or another. And it's not as if he'd never want to meet her while she was in London, or come to Downton, or something of the sort.

And so, stepping out, Mary Talbot made one of the most brazen, stupid decisions in her life.

"I didn't know you sang."

Charles turned his head out towards her, and much like her only minutes before, looked at her as if she were an apparition. If only for a moment.

"What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

Mary felt a smile creep across her face, and much to her annoyance, couldn't fight it off.

"Oh, _please_." Mary scoffed theatrically.

"You mean to tell me that I'm _not_ a singing, pig-rescuing gentleman with roguish charm?" Charles asked, keeping up their little game.

"Well, we already know that the pig-rescuing is true, so I can't discredit that, and I'll willfully give you the singing."

"But that still leaves roguishly charming."

"Oh, _that_?" Mary started, enjoying dragging this out for as long as she could. "Completely false."

" _Mary Crawley!_ Why I thought that _you_ of all people would know of my captivating personality by this point!"

"Well, I suppose you thought wrong." she said, no longer even trying to keep the smile from her features, "And it's Mary Talbot now."

There was a slight change in the demeanor of their conversation then; virtually unnoticeable to any bystander, but blindingly different to them.

"Ah, yes! I forgot about that. So how are the two of you?"

"We're well. And how about you? Have you found your 'five foot two, eyes of blue' yet?"

"I'm afraid not. But if I'm going to be honest, that's hardly my type at all."

"How was Poland?"

"Beautiful, but a bit cold. I didn't mind much, however."

If she took out the context, it could almost sound as if he was describing _her_. But that was irrational, and she was married, so it was too late for silly thoughts like _that_.

"You didn't write me back." she remarked, trying to keep a playful edge to it as to keep from letting him know.

"I did, right before I left. I would have finished it sooner, but every time I sat down to write, I was getting new orders."

"How dreadful _that_ must have been."

"I happen to be fortunate enough to like what I do for a living, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting frustrated by the end."

"Well, if you ever get tired of scampering around on behalf of Parliament, might I suggest you become a singer?"

"And if I were to become a singer, would I still be able to stay at Downton? Or would that be _scandalous_?"

"We're more modern than _that_. I'm sure that even Papa and Granny would be able to come to terms with it."

"Well, I'm glad for that."

"I'd vouch for you."

His features lit up in one of the warmest smiles Mary had ever seen, and Mary knew that she was lost. She didn't quite know _what_ was shining in his eyes, but she would have been content with staring into them until she found out.

"It's getting rather late." he stated quickly, taking a step back.

"Indeed it is." Mary agreed, now looking off to she side.

And in her heart, she gave him the tightest embrace that she was capable of. With one arm wrapped around his neck and the other clutching his back, and his enveloping her waist, he lifted her up ever so slightly and spun her around, before they moved too close, and their lips collided.

But that was only in her heart. And they lived in the real world. So instead, they exchanged a quick hug, and started heading their separate ways.

"Charles?"

He stopped for a minute, and turned back.

"If I hadn't- well, if things weren't- in another world, things would have ended differently." she finished lamely.

But even though it was hastily uttered out in the middle of a goodbye, that was all they needed.

* * *

 _ **AN: Thank you to all of those who took the time to read, review, follow, or favourite!**_

 _ **I love Downton Abbey, and I feel a kind of relatability to certain aspects of Mary, so I wrote this. Not to mention I wasn't much of a fan of her romance arc in Series 6, and I thought Henry had the personality of a wet towel. In all seriousness, though, I am a huge sucker for the partners-in-crime-to-lovers thing, and I wanted to have some Mary/Charles without altering the timeline. I promise that I will write one with a happier ending later.**_


End file.
